Love You Like A Korean Song Baby
by Analyze
Summary: Original Story. Who knew that all it took to find romance was just good music, a couple coincidences, and a flight halfway across the world? Right, me neither.      Maria and Rumi are two best friends on their way to South Korea who like to people watch.
1. Prologue: Security Line

Copyright 2012

All Rights Reserved

A/N: Welcome to Korean-POP! (Love You Like A Korean Song Baby). Yes, that was a play on Selena Gomez's Love You Like A Love Song. Finally. I've had this idea floating around in my head for a while now…and welcome to my first original fic. Please Vote, Comment, and Fan like you wattpaders say, and thanks :D

Prologue

"Flight 364 to Seoul, Korea, delayed departure until 11:45" Announced the overhead PA system at O'Hare airport.

I scowled as I glanced at my watch. It was 10:00. That meant an hour and forty-five minutes to spare at the airport. I trudged forward in the security line, pulling my luggage behind me.

"Hurry up, Rumi!" I shot, calling my best friend forward-she was holding up the line, trying to unbuckle her silver gladiator sandals. Oh, the joys of the security line. "I told you to wear flip-flops, Rumi" I chuckled, bending down to undo her laces.

"Thanks, Maria, I don't know what I would do without you," she admitted, tugging her shirt down. "I. Hate. This. Line."

"No joke," I agreed. Everyone was pressed up together as we inched forward at less than a snail's pace. Then again, we were traveling during high flight season. It was summer break, and Rumi and I were headed toward the country of our fantasies, South Korea. We had been planning this trip since we were in high school, and now that we had saved up enough money to go over what seemed to be thousands of summer jobs, we were now on our way.

"Please be prepared to take out all of the metal items out of your pockets," the TSA officer droned on, "Drink all liquids or throw them in the trash can- no liquid containers over 8oz. are allowed past this point. Children under the age of 11 are now allowed to keep their shoes on through the security checkpoint."

"Maria," Rumi whispered, "I needa go pee."

I groaned, "Hold it. We're almost going through security." I looked up, please let this wait be short.

"Okay," whispered Rumi as she shifted from one leg to the other.

I sighed, plugging in my Beats headphones and pumped up BigBang's 'Somebody to Love'


	2. People Watching

Chapter 1: People Watching

Oh the joys of people watching!

Rumi and I loved to people watch. We could sit for hours on end after exhausting mall trips and just watch the people walking by, commenting on everything from their clothes, to their hair, to even what their life might be like.

Although it was a bit awkward when you were staring…and then they caught you and straight back.

The hustle and bustle of the airport was much more entertaining than that of the mall. Here, there were people from all over the world, with different styles and looks, walking around leisurely to sprinting to their destination.

We were sitting on a funky looking bench, one that read 'Welcome to Chicago!' and had odd cut outs of the Chicago skyline on it, McDonald's bags in hand. The glass window behind revealed the airplanes and our bench was sandwiched between a phone booth, our bags occupying an empty row of seats in the terminal waiting area.

"Ooh! Look at her" I poked Rumi's side. "Look at that lady in the neon purple velvety tracksuit! Over there! The one that's big and looks just like Barney!"

Rumi spotted the woman and immediately started laughing, the coke she was sipping now coming out of her nose as she choke-laughed all over herself. "You SUCK" she spluttered.

"Eew. That is disgusting- you sure you aren't uber sick? Should I take you to the doctor's office to a certain young and smexy ." I slapped her back as she continued to cough all over the place.

"You," Rumi glared between coughs "are also horrid. "

"I try," I replied, grabbing a fry out of the carton in her lap. "What?" I asked innocently, in answer to the appalled look on her face "It's not like you _like _eating potatoes!" I stated.

"But I like FRIES!" she insisted.

"Yes, totally" I answered, now disinterested as I shifted my attention back to the crowd in front of us.

Taking my iPhone out, I played 'Hello my La La' by one of my favorite bands ALI on low volume, as not to disturb people nearby. I chuckled. Only a Korean band would name themselves 'Always Loving It'.

"I thought you hated ALI" Rumi questioned after humming the chorus, "Something about the leader, "

"—Kim Gee? Still hate him. You know," I fumed, "it's his fault my baby Li Don looks just plain UGLY now. WHY OH WHY Kim Gee? WHY DID YOU SCREW OVER ALI'S UNIQUE SOUND BY MAKING IT SOUND LIKE MAINSTREAM KPOP, HUNH?" I shouted, not caring if I made a fool of myself.

"Here she goes off again," muttered Rumi "Now calm down, Maria. It's all right—I hate it too. Now sit your ass back down before someone comes and yells at us." She scolded, catching sight of the worried security guards

I nodded, sitting back down, trying to rein myself in. "It's just that they were so…awesome before. And now they sound like any Donghae-Kim Joon-Taewhatever in the book. Their unique X factor is now gone!" I continued passionately, sprawling myself across the bench, laying my head down on Rumi's lap, and propped my feet on the phone booth next to us. "I mean, we've been fans of ALI since the sixth grade, but now? Ugh. They should have stayed on break." I scowled.

"Now, Now, Poor, Poor, Mar-Mars. I know what you mean" she agreed, most probably trying to get me to shut up.

I stole another fry from next to her and chewed on it loudly and obnoxiously.

"I still hate him. It's ALL HIS FAULT."

Rumi giggled, "but you still listen to their music."

"It's NOT my fault that it's catchy." I said, totally in denial "Not like you should be talking, since you listen to Girl's Generation!" I accused.

"And so do you." She shot back

I couldn't not agree, how embarrassing.

"Well," Rumi continued, throwing her trash into her now empty McDonald's bag and changing the subject. "I can't wait to go around Seoul. Think of all the people there! And then there's the concert tomorrow night. And shopping! Oh, clothes, I didn't pack too many outfits so we could buy more! I took out some of your outfits too, don't worry."

"Whythankyou." I answered, my mouth full of burger "I love it when you go through my stuff, I said, swallowing the mouthful. "You look BEAUTIFUL in your white skirt, perfect long hair cascading in neat black ringlets, cute t-shirt, and silver sandals. Whereas I look like a disaster."

"You're gross." Rumi replied flicking my nose. " And that's why I _told _you to dress nicely, you idiot."

"Meh." I replied. I liked my ensemble of bright orange flip-flops, dark washed skinny jeans, matching orange button up shirt, and large red over the ear headphones, my forever straight hair in its normal Karin-inspired bob. "At least my butt won't get cold when a breeze passes by."

Rumi rolled her eyes.

"Oh!" she squealed, 'Don't look now, but there is a hottie flock coming this way!"

I immediately sat up, barely avoiding a collision between my forehead and her chin, scanning the crowd for the hottie flock. You see, we had a saying that hot people tended to flock together, birds of a feather and all that. I spotted them at 3 o'clock and after a few moments of staring I laid back down, plopping my head back into Rumi's lap. There were four of them. They all wore those big, matching sunglasses that took up half of their face, but if their hair and outfits were any indication of what they looked like, they were sure to look pretty good. The tallest guy had short black hair, swooped down so that it covered half of his face. A second guy had bright orange hair that was spiked up in all different directions. The third guy had what couldn't be called a bowl cut, but looked eerily similar to one, yet he somehow managed to pull it all off. The fourth and tallest guy had dyed blonde hair, some of it captured in a ponytail on his head, in a samurai-type hairdo. And yes, they all walked with more than a bit of swagger in their step.

"Danng. They are hawwt," I agreed "I call the one with the bright orange hair, by the way" I said, picking up my iPhone and taking a picture. 

"Mar-Mars?" Rumi said

"Yes?"

"You're a creep."

"You too, hon, you too"

I closed my eyes, and started to drift off. Why didn't we just up to the hot guys? Introduce ourselves? Get some action? Make a new friend? But that's just how Rumi and I roll. We watch people pass by, spot hot people, agree on their hotness, and move on.

"Excuse me, is anyone sitting here?" A smooth and disturbingly familiar voice asked, interrupting my chain of thought. Looking at the newcomer, I saw that it was the tall guy black-haired guy from the hottie flock.

Odd…what does one do when the person the individuals that they had been watching decide to approach them?

"Oh, no." Rumi replied, glancing down at me. "Let me just move our bags so you can sit," she said pushing me up and out of her lap. I groaned, but stood up to help her move our bags out of the way. Silly people making me walk and stand up, I thought, shaking my head.

After shoving our bags next to the phone booth I was forced to sit normally, by Rumi, of course, and sat awkwardly as she tried to make conversation with our new 'neighbors'.

"So, are you headed Seoul also?" she began

I glanced at my phone. Oh dear, there were still 45 minutes left.


End file.
